He’d pleased some Karma God somewhere because he caught every green light and only got stuck behind one pokey driver. The drive took seven minutes instead of the normal twelve, but those seven minutes spanned into endlessness every time he glanced at Tabatha. They didn’t speak or touch, but judging by the way she shifted in the seat, her anxiety was ramping up as badly as his. She leaned forward at every light they approached as if she was begging it to be green, and drummed her fingers on her knees. In his driveway, waiting for the garage door to raise took an interminably long time. He’d pushed the button to put it back down before he turned off the car and they were out the doors. “You bought a house?” “Rented. It felt more permanent than an apartment, but not too big a decision to make without you.” “You just keep getting better.” They made it as far as the hood of the car before they had their hands on each other.
